


On the Veranda

by letterando



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Angst, Communication Failure, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, Hanshin Tigers, Japanese Professional Baseball, Lack of Communication, M/M, Magical Realism, NPB, Osaka Tigers, Yakult Swallows, Yomiuri Giants, Yomiuri Kyojin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 15:19:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6475498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letterando/pseuds/letterando
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Mihashi's "ghost" helps Abe realizing how idiotic he had been when he left his pitcher on his own at the beginning of their professional careers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Veranda

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [On the Veranda](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/187840) by Ichikawa Kei. 



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3 days before the first pitch of the first match of the Central League, Abe’s mouth simmered with the aftertaste of pickled vegetables, meat and alcohol and his head swam with the hatred towards every tiny flower which caught his gaze. ~~~~

That March was kind and relatively spring-like, without any unpleasant surprise such as the snowy nights of the year before.

Last year his fellow tenants all remained bundled inside their homes, ripples of laughter echoing in the evenings. Now, the potted plant on Abe’s landing was sporting leaves everywhere and he could hear the young family on his floor running in and out of the veranda in what was probably a game of chase.

Opening the door of his flat, number 305, Abe let the keys clink on the table and went straight for his veranda. He lived alone, and tonight, like many others, the universe was mocking him again by showing him Ren’s ghost. Well, it wasn’t exactly a ghost since the man was alive and well, but Abe still recalled the sheer panic he felt when he saw it for the first time, so sometimes he still called it ghost in his mind.

Ren’s _spirit_ didn’t first appear when Abe checked the flat with the realtor, of course not, it appeared a few days after he moved in and popped up now and then. Thankfully, always on the veranda.

 _He’s here again._ Thought Abe absent-mindedly before taking a bottle of water out of the fridge, putting a cigarette between his dry lips and stepping in the veranda again. Keeping an eye on the spirit, he sat down on one of the simple chairs he put together with a circular, simple table and sipped the cold water to sober up.

He remembered the evening he saw Ren’s spirit for the first time as if it was a second ago. He was so shocked of seeing Ren’s transparent form that he dashed to throw up in the loo and only more than an hour later he trailed out again, shaking so badly that his legs could barely support his weight. But it was nothing to the tremor which possessed his hand when he tried to touch the ghost. Later, trying not to give in to hysteria, he realized that he had thought that, by attempt to touch Ren’s spirit, his hand would fall off, and that would have been really, really bad because he didn’t like fapping with his left.

But he couldn’t touch Ren’s spirit. Obviously.

 _Of course the rent is so cheap._ He had thought. They had tricked him. Either that or he was going mad.

Exhaling slowly, Abe flicked his phone awake and browsed the news like any other night. And there it was, the latest reports about the Swallows. As usual, he snickered at Ren’s still alive-and-kicking clumsiness with the agility and grace of a swallow. At least now he could make fun of it. When he turned his back to his ex-best friend, he certainly did not, _could_ not. The latest news was a remainder of the Swallows’ thumping victory against the Tigers in Osaka, earlier that day.

 _Still live._ His mind supplied out of habit as he turned to stare at the ghost. Truth to be said, Abe also called it a ghost at the beginning because it was haunting him. He used to think that the blasted universe wanted to drive him mad as a punishment. But later Abe got used to it as he got used to the fact that maybe going barmy would have been a poor consolation for his actions.

 _It will be a pain if he brings a woman home_. thought Abe, relishing the fresh air and the cold water, even while knowing that it was extremely unlikely, and that was because he had lived in his spacious, well-furnished flat, in a leafy suburb, since he separated himself from the pitcher 5 years before and Ren had never once brought a girl or a woman home.

However, Abe was often concerned about this because, apart from Ren’s whole semi-transparent frame, a good portion of the bed was visible, too. Apart from objects which Ren carried such as his phone, magazines and beverages, no other piece of furniture appeared. Just the bed. And, well, if that wasn’t a clear sign that this was meant to be his punishment, what else was?

 _I’ll go to the bathhouse if he brings home a woman_. He thought, as usual, as he nursed his water. Already knowing that Ren, most likely, was never going to tumble in bed with someone very soon. And, whatever really, he hated going to the bathhouse anyway. He finished his smoke as he wondered, for the umpteenth time, if Ren had ever gone to a bathhouse and how would he behave in one, would he slip? Would he know what to do, where to look? Would Abe ever be able to find out? He took his lighter and the bottle back inside and after a pit-stop in the loo, he confirmed that Ren had slipped under the covers in the meantime.

 _He falls asleep so fast. And it’s so early, not even close to midnight_. Abe mulled, worringly. Ren almost always went to bed pretty early and never, ever, smoke.  Did they run their players so strictly and roughly in the Swallows? Not that Abe ever took into consideration transferring.

Abe, as a professional catcher, should imitate Ren’s behavior actually, but some days the sight of the spirit made him too antsy, so he busied himself by smoking. That day, also, was particularly stressing. The reason why he had come back earlier than usual and why he had smoked more hurriedly than his usual slow, lazy pace, was because he was going to meet Ren (in person) for the first time after 5 years.

Of course, he saw Ren’s ghost sitting by his bed almost for hours on end and almost every evening, but meeting him in person was another can of worms altogether. It was going to be a disaster. This interview was going to ruin them both for life. They were going to be thrown out of the baseball world. Abe already had his resignation letter ready.

Abe tried to fall asleep by rehearsing the speech he was going to give Ren, hopefully in a casual face-to-face meeting before the interview, to tell him to keep his mouth shut. But he got up to a few words when he drifted off to the flowers adorning the trees outside and the plants on his landing and back still, to the petals fluttering in the wind, many springs ago now, when he swore, in his heart, to accompany Ren in his professional career to the best of his abilities, in any way he could. Such wishful thinking.

 

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The next day he met Ren and the Swallows’ PR consultant in the lobby of the building the interview was going to take place in, and Ren looked positively sick. At first, he just looked absurdly thinner, although taller, than the last time Abe saw him in person but since that was ridiculous, since the pros’ nutritional regime was very strict and the training and the matches left one starving, he tried to banish the thought and bowed politely to both.

But then Abe picked up several oddities. Ren looked panicky and after stammering out a greeting, he decidedly did not meet Abe’s eyes and in order to avoid any possibility of it, he settled on addressing the floor instead, every time his answer was required. Moreover, Abe noticed as they made their way inside the maze of corridors, that Ren’s complexion looked ashen-gray under the neon lights and that he was wringing his hands over and over. He was _terrified_.

Abe couldn’t have had the heart to talk with him one-on-one even if he found the occasion, which he didn’t, because the cameras “sneaked a peek” in the waiting rooms and then they were given the green light to go.

Ren, though, did a complete 180° when they sat down in front of the journalist and the cameramen. He looked straight at the woman interviewing them, smiled and answered all the questions aimed at his career in the Swallows, only stammering a bit here and there.  He looked so different that Abe’s fear re-emerged and, ironically, he was the one who had troubles stuttering out his first answers. The Giants’ PR agent even slid him a glass of water with a look which demanded more focus and participation.

He went on more smoothly but when the journalist mentioned the rumors surrounding the two of them in the run-up of their professional career, he saw Ren’s hands turning white by clutching the fabric of his trousers too tightly. Abe quickly went over the dismissal he had scripted in his mind when he was notified about the interview, but Ren recovered faster than him.

“I-I was very glad about Abe-kun’s support back then.” Began Ren softly, keeping his gaze steady on the journalist across the low table.

“Even though we had received some attention when-when we won Koushien, it was nothing in comparison. I was…um…totally disoriented. And I’m very grateful….for Abe-kun’s help through that period. I’ve always hoped that Abe-kun’s team was going to be comprehensive about the nature of the situation and I’m extremely glad that they did. It was very kind of them, too.”

What? What was Ren saying? Did he just?

But before Abe could turn around to take a look at Ren’s manager to see if he had understood correctly, the journalist was addressing him on the issue and he only slightly adjusted his reply to include that yes, his team was on his side and he wasn’t troubled anymore, that it wasn’t even an issue now.

For all the raging anxiety Abe had been victim of in the preceding weeks, they separated so quickly that he barely got a good look at Ren once the journalists bowed in thanks for the last time. The Swallows manager directed Ren towards the exit because, apparently, he couldn’t miss training, whereas Abe had to stay in the building for a brief photo-shoot, which Ren’s manager, Abe later overheard, had insisted on making Ren do before the interview.

The last glimpse he got of Ren after 5 years was his beet-red cheekbones and ears and his thin-looking frame wrapped in unfamiliar clothes.

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Later that evening, Abe did the groceries as fast as humanly possible but he still got home around the time Ren usually went to bed.

He swung the door of his veranda open with his heartbeat in his glottis, and thankfully there the pitcher’s spirit was, sitting by the bed as usual. Abe exhaled loudly and mentally kicked himself. He went back in to put the groceries away and wash his face and when he re-emerged outside with a can of beer he settled on his chair to have one of his usual quiet drinks with his former best friend. It had been stupid to panic and worry.

From his peripheral vision, though, he noticed that there was something strange. Ren’s spirit was looking more solid than usual and it was fluctuating, leaning forward slightly. When he turned around fully on his seat, his brain clicked with the full realization. Ren wasn’t fluctuating, he was shaking.

 _It’s been a while since I’ve seen him laugh_. Thought Abe at the same time as he knew how much he was deceiving himself. When Ren straightened back nothing could deny the big, transparent tears dripping from the corners of his eyes.

Abe stared, speechless, as from Ren’s scrunched up eyes so many tears were gushing, so many that it was soon impossible for his face to contain them and they started dripping down on his pajama, causing dark blobs to blossom on it.

He kept on staring as Ren tried to dry his blotched and wet face with his wrist, then bent a little forward as his shoulders went through a sort of spasm, so fast were they shaking, and when he straightened again his whole face was in shades of red, and a waterfall was pouring endlessly from his closed eyes down the tiny wrinkles at the corners, down his nose, his cheeks, his chin, his neck and his mouth, hanging wide open in a stretched-out sob.

Abe got up so quickly the chair swung to the floor with a loud clang but he didn’t care, he almost fell on his face by stepping in his flat and had to kick the chair away from the threshold to shut the door. He pulled the curtain closed, switched off all the lights and flung himself onto his bed. Ren’s spirit couldn’t emit sounds, but Abe pulled the covers tight around his head and over his ears while Ren’s inaudible screams were resounding within him, amplifying, until they reached deep into his chest and squeezed for so long that Abe thought he wasn’t going to see the next day’s morning light.

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As Abe had predicted, the day the interview was aired the press had a field day. Twitter burst with hashtags about Ren’s implications and everywhere Abe tapped in his browser, either Ren’s or his own face was there.

Ren stepped on the diamond along with his teammates the day before and the cameras loved to show his smile but all Abe could think of, as he watched Ren and a teammate high-fiving, was that Ren didn’t have to force himself like that and that he was all the more an idiot for it.

When the irreducible fans dug up 5-years old pictures of the two of them, he felt increasingly sick reading the responses of their opponents. Their fans got ostracized as delusive children, but Abe checked his phone as often as possible in-between training sessions and when he could confirm that their fans kept their tag, their #AbeMiha hashtag, stayed among the top ones nationwide for hours, he couldn’t suppress the feeling of victory.

When one the Giants coaches passed by, he quickly hid his phone and apologized, but the older man only smiled broadly, squeezed his shoulder and declared that it was all in the past now and that Abe could advance in his career in all leisure. Abe mentally took note to steer away from the man from then on and wished the time to go faster so he could check on Ren on the veranda.

However, his damned teammates must have been psychic or something because they tackled him into going clubbing with them and when he got home he was barely sober, but still rushed inside and took the steps three at a time, risking his neck, but bypassing the slow lift.

Pushing the door of the veranda wide open, he saw Ren sitting by his bed, but he was more hunched on himself as usual, so his face remained hidden. His phone laid in front of him but it was lit-up. Abe didn’t know what to think but when he noticed Ren’s forearm making a jerky movement upwards, he thought about Ren a few days while trying, hopelessly, to dry his flood of tears and approached the curled-up semi-visible figure.

Two things happened at the same time, though, which made his brain short-circuiting and his body freeze on the spot. From above Ren’s shoulder, he saw that his phone’s screen was showing a picture of the two them during one of their earliest interviews into the pro league.

Abe remembered them all too clearly. He himself was too obvious, too open, too gay, too in love, everything bared for the damn world to see, and Ren, of course Ren couldn’t have been nothing else but the epitome of affection and devotion, with Abe being the only catcher he got along well with and the one who had made sure Ren had put on a show when the scouts finally got their heads out of their asses and focused on Nishiura’s ace.

But the picture was shown for a couple of seconds more when it was substituted by another, evidently taken by a fan or by paparazzi, of the two of them walking in the garden of a Shinto shrine. Abe remembered that one, too. It was New Years and they made sure to make some time in their team’s schedule to go to the shrine and pray together for their moving in together. It had been a while since the last time they could meet and stroll around freely like that, so they kept closer than usual. Abe recalled how much he wanted to slip his hand around Ren’s side and tuck him closer, always closer, and that horrible evening when their rendezvous under the kotatsu and their hotpot supper was ruined by a call from their furious PR agents. Apparently, it wasn’t at all usual for high-school-friends-turned-opponents by their new teams to meet even during the End-of-Year holidays. It turned you into food for dangerous speculations, they said.

At the same time Abe realized that Ren’s phone was showing a slideshow of the two of them before Abe fucked it all up, he also finally realized that Ren was jerking off. Ren, _his_ Ren, was jerking off at pictures of them in his apartment and in Abe’s body not a single muscle dared moving.

How many times had Abe thought about this scenario? Hoped it, fantasized about it, fapped at it. And now he couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t smell, couldn’t taste, couldn’t touch.

He was startled by a sudden jerk of Ren’s body and fell hard from his crouched position to the floor of the veranda. He thought Ren must had come and squatted to peek at his expression, shamelessly fulfilling his adolescent fantasies, but Ren’s face was inundated by the tears, his mouth opening and closing regularly as he tried to sob and breathe simultaneously.

Attempting not to look at Ren’s hands still gripping his dick, Abe mentally slapped himself and ran. He felt like hiding in his bed wasn’t enough. He was still-frozen before but now his chest hosted that painful, burning sensation again and it didn’t dissipate until he had ran downstairs, ran outside, ran on the streets for miles on end.

That night, he asked a couple of drunk passersby for change to buy himself a bottle at a vending machine and stumbled into the first taxi he saw before collapsing, exhausted, in the entryway with his fingers still fumbling to take off his shows.

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Abe knew that he was a coward. He had recognized as the truth that it was since he blocked Ren’s number 5 years before even though he knew that with a single remark, with a single word, no, with a single harsh look, Ren would have disappeared from his life completely.

But he was a coward and he had chosen to block Ren’s number and moved out of the apartment building they chose to move in without a word or a postcard under the door, as he had once thought of doing.

He felt like a grade A stalker when he clicked his way in one of Ren BNF’s blog and navigated it until he found that there weren’t any reports about Ren moving out, and Abe was infinitely glad that he didn’t have to ask subtly here and there among his teammates or coming out as a stalker and ask a fan online.

He resolutely didn’t open the door to the veranda even if his fingers trembled with want every second he spent in his flat, and ignoring the twinge in his chest, he instead braced himself for reality.

A week later, rush hour found Abe in Ren’s neighborhood. He hadn’t hoped of finding the same supermarket they used to go to, but there it was. He walked it, quickly browsed the crowd and taking note that Ren wasn’t there already, he starting walking slowly around in circles like the decorated stalker he now was.

He was getting mesmerized by the amazing conversation two young mothers were having back-to-back in order to let their newborn babies stare at each other, whom they carried in a sort of sling as bag packs. Hypnotized by how easily the two mothers, clearly friends, were managing this mind-boggling feat, he almost lost sight of Ren’s passing.

Abe noticed the casual clothes and the customary spectacles and cap which Ren used to hide his unusually light-coloured hair.

He was reading from his phone, possibly his grocery list, and continuously darted looks all around to check his surroundings and Abe wondered if he still got anxious in crowded public places.

When Ren approached the soft beverages corner, where Abe was, Abe’s guilt and shame reared their ugly heads in unison and he was suddenly conflicted between greeting his adolescent mash or fleeing, when they locked eyes. Ren visibly startled and he stopped on his tracks, a few steps apart from Abe, while Abe felt the blood rush to his cheeks and willed himself to speak, to say _something_ goddamn it.  Then, Ren seemed to regain his senses because he inconspicuously looked to his right and to his left, possibly to see if they were recognized. Abe saw the fear rise in his former pitcher’s pupils, culminating in a confused look Ren threw his way before carefully stepping backwards and sideways.

He was going to pretend he didn’t see Abe. And when Abe realized his brains finally resurfaced from whatever spell he was under, and he called Ren, stepping forward. At the mention of his name, Ren jumped a bit in surprise and stared at Abe as if he was raving mad.

“Hi.” said Abe, because apparently his brain was offline again.

“U-Um, Abe-san.” replied quietly Ren, inclining his head slightly in a bow. Of course Abe was “Abe-san” now. A polite, formal greeting was more than a bastard like him deserved, anyway.

Now that he had sparked the conversation, Abe had to carry it on. He got this. He rehearsed this. In a supermarket you usually spoke about groceries, easy-peasy. Darting a look at Ren’s basket, though, was not a bright idea, as Abe was punched in the guts by a barrel of memories. Sweet beans pudding, soy milk, vegetables and mushrooms. He forgot that Ren’s cooking was good and that he started carrying a cooking book around after Momokan paired them together back in their first year. By the time their first few weeks out of home had passed, Abe had made it a point to eat as many meals as possible with Ren, especially if the pitcher cooked.

“Um…” mumbled Ren, bringing Abe back down on earth. “It’s-It’s alright. I didn’t……. I didn’t see you or anything.” Said Ren, lowering his voice until he was whispering and looking absolutely everywhere but at Abe.

Ren was still offering the pretense of not having met him for Abe’s sake. Or at least, that was the interpretation Abe could bet his money on. Abe knew he had gotten good at understanding his pitcher, but it was equally true that 5 years could change a person.

“No, it’s fine. I just wanted…” But he trailed off in a silence which demonstrated how little thought he had put into this. 5 years of being an absolute prat and he crowded Ren during his everyday routine without a single useful word to offer.

“I was just passing by, didn’t thought about where I was going.” lied Abe.

After a stretch of silence Ren fidgeted on the spot and hummed softly, indicating that he was still listening. There was no doubt that Abe took the wrong course of action, but he didn’t want to waste the opportunity and seized the first seemingly useful idea.

“I could call you some time, if you don’t mind.” this time it was Abe who didn’t dare to look at Ren. But as a pregnant pause stretched on, he got anxious and lied through his teeth.

"When you are free, of course. Like, after training for example. I’m usually chilling at home, I don’t know about you, maybe you have places to go, or you are busy.."

"I'm not..." blurted out Ren, saving Abe from a desperate rambling.

"I'm not.... I'm not......" Abe had forgotten how frustrating could Ren’s speech pattern be. “…busy.” Finally  managed to say Ren and for the second time after so long, their gazes met each other, even if Ren quickly averted his.

“Alright then.” Exhaled Abe, suddenly eager for that awful encounter to end. “Bye.” And after Ren’s murmured reply, Abe made his way home as quickly as he could, mentally slapping himself for his stupidity but still congratulating himself at every step of the way.

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 _Too goddamn cute_. Thought Abe the following evening.

A theory took over his mind during training, that since he had spoken face-to-face with Ren, his ghost was not going to appear on his veranda anymore.

He was proved wrong by the sight of Ren’s spirit sitting on said veranda with his phone placed on the floor in front of him. Ren himself was reading a manga but in the course of the few minutes Abe settled with a soft beverage by the table, Ren peeked at his phone more times than Abe could keep track of.  When Abe picked up his own phone he could tell himself that he was taking pity on Ren all he wanted but he was most certainly going to remember the defeaning pounding of his heartbeat in the quiet nightly air.

When the call rang in his ear, he saw Ren darting for his phone, but he didn’t flick the call open immediately. Instead, Abe stared as Ren visibly swallowed and furiously blinked for a couple of times before Ren’s voice was so close that a cold shiver ran down Abe’s spine.

“Good evening.”

What the hell. The tone was so hesitant and the greeting so formal that Abe couldn’t stop his laughter.

When he calmed down he saw Ren fidgeting on the veranda and Ren’s voice repeating quiet “Err”s.

“What the hell, “good evening”?, “hi” too posh for you?”

“Um. Okay. I mean. No. I mean. Hi.” Abe held in his laughter this time and snickered out a reply. On the floor, by the semi-transparent bed, he saw Ren’s toes curling and uncurling. His whole body was more curled in on itself as usual.

Since Ren was waiting for Abe to say something, apparently, and Abe himself had thought that he had to be more expressive, he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing interesting was on his mind then and he just blurted out his first thought.

“You are still too thin.”

“Eh?” When Abe saw Ren’s eyes widening a bit and his free hand raising his t-shirt to show his belly, Abe mentally cursed himself.

“That came out wrong, sorry. I meant that you are still so thin after years under regime, thinner in person than in pictures even, at the interview… But maybe it was just the lights. They were very strong.”

“They were! My eyes hurt during the photoshoot!”said Ren and Ren’s spirit scratched his left eye as if punctuating his words. Abe sighed in relief realizing that Ren didn’t catch his slip of the tongue.

“What? You told them to switch some off, right? Your eyesight can’t get bad because of something so stupid, your pitching could be affected!”

But Abe realized as soon as he had spoken that he had raised his voice again and took a deep breath. Ren eventually got used to it in their later years, but Abe crouched to better gauge the pitcher’s expression to see the consequence of his carelessness. However, Ren didn’t look scared, rather he smiled.  He ducked his head slightly and actually smiled.

“What?”

“What?” echoed Ren.

“That’s my line.”

“Oh. Um… No…. I was just….. It’s been a long time since someone used that tone of voice while-while they were….. trying to take care of me.” As Ren said the last words in a soft whisper, Abe thought he had heard wrong. But as Ren’s spirit was there on the veranda with him and Ren was fidgeting and looking like he had just said something he shouldn’t have, Abe had to confirm that, yes, Ren just said it.

It’s always been typical of Ren, seeing only the best in Abe. When the rest of their former teammates mocked Abe for his oppressive mothering, Ren adored him because Abe was the first catcher who truly cared about his gameplay.

“Your eyes are important, you know? You have to take good care of them. Your health in general actually. But you can’t wipe the floor with the Dragon’s best battery with bad eyesight, right? The curves you serve them are awesome.”

It was meant a light joke, to bring up Ren’s smile again, but Ren looked panicked and even extended his arm so that he could see his phone’s screen.

 _What the hell_. Thought Abe, and he was about to call the other man when he saw Ren adjusting his phone to his ear again.

“Does Abe-kun…. Errr, does Abe-kun….”  Again with the surname. Dammit.

“Abe-kun surely….. doesn’t watch my matches himself. Right?”

Wait. What?

“Of course I do!” shouted Abe, because, seriously, Abe went his separate way but it’s not like there was a bloody feud or anything like hatred between them.

“But…. But….” stuttered Ren, looking increasingly panicky. “Surely not all of our matches! Just the highlights…”

“’Course, just the highlights. But I record them all and if the NBP app says that you were on the mound then I watch it. I always watch the parts when you are mound, sometimes the whole match if I’ve got time.”

Contrarily to Abe’s expectations, Ren didn’t look happy at all, and as Ren’s eyes widened enormously, Abe’s ear was enundated by a loud

“EEEH?!”

“Shit! Tone it down, will you?”

“But…..! But…..! Abe-kun watches my matches!” said Ren as if that explained everything even when it really, really didn’t.

“I already told you, of course I do. That was a given, moron.”

To Abe’s surprise, Ren wrenched his phone away from his ear again and keeping his arm extended upwards, he lowered his head into the space between his knees and sat there, visibly shaking, until Abe, imagining the worse, called out his name.

“That…… WASN’T A GIVEN AT ALL!» shouted Ren in his ear and Abe exhaled slowly because, thank goodness, Ren wasn’t crying, even though Ren’s spirit’s eyes did look shiny with wetness. His eyebrows were scrunched up in what Abe could only associate with anger, though. It was a weird expression on Ren and before Abe could say anything else, or change topic as he was thinking to do-

“So-Sorry, I’ve got to go. Good night Abe-kun.” and Abe saw, live, Ren intentionally hanging up on him for the first time in their life and before Abe’s brain could catch up, Ren was under the covers of the semi-transparent bed on the veranda. He ducked so fast and so messily that his feet hung outside the light-coloured cocoon of covers and Abe was left to stare at them and wonder what the hell he said wrong this time.

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For the following few days Abe double-checked his every word and thankfully enough, his conversations with Ren ran smoothly. A couple of times things slipped from his lips, things which he shouldn’t have known, _couldn’t_ have known, like the fact that Ren didn’t drink enough energy drinks or that he went to sleep so early, but he somehow covered them as either intuitions or memories.  Ren sounded and looked depressed when Abe excused his peculiar knowledge with the latter motive and mentally swore not to bring up the past again. He didn’t like making Ren sad at all, never did.

Following the interview, the Giants’ and Swallows’ coaches apparently arranged to ride the wave of interest in the public by letting them both on the diamond in the same match. The last this happened had been three years before and the atmosphere was absolutely appalling, Abe shook with the effort of not looking at his former pitcher the whole time and his concentration steadily fell throughout the game.

As Abe settled in the batter’s box  in front of the mound where Ren stood, Abe took courage in his hands and nodded a silent greeting. Ren instantly responded in kind but it must have been involuntary because he fidgeted on the spot immediately after, as if trying to delete his action from the history of humanity.

Abe wasn’t the first batter who faced Ren that day, so he well prepared in Ren’s current physical and psychological status. Since the moment he had stepped on the mound Ren kept throwing quick looks at him, as if making sure that Abe was watching. Abe resolutely did not look at his coaches while the Giants third baseman joked that the “Swallows pitcher had just checked him out again”.

That was why Abe already knew the outcome of the match from Ren’s first pitch onwards. Even though they were a point ahead of the Swallows, they weren’t going to score anymore, because Ren was _absolutely_. _On_. _Fire_. One strike after the other, he achieved a Perfect Game for the three innings he stood on the mound and it was only because Abe stepped up his game and strictly focused on every Swallows batter that the Giants managed to keep the status quo.

By  the end of the match, he felt so, _so_ proud of Ren that when they shook hands during the teams lineup, by the time of Ren’s turn, Abe couldn’t help but lean forward and hug him the best he could with one of theirs arms bent and trapped in-between their bodies respectively.

“Well done Ren!” he shouted over the clapping audience.

“Abe-kun… Abe-kun too!” exclaimed Ren on his shoulder, sounding breathless and shocked.

“It’s always amazing seeing you get serious!” said Abe, leaning back and patting Ren on the shoulder a last time as he knew that he was slowing down the queue. Ren was looking like a deer caught in headlights and he couldn’t help but snicker all the way into the changing rooms. Abe’s heart felt five times larger and his legs, usually heavy after a match, were light and carried him in and out of the shower stalls and around the room as if he was barely touching the ground.

When his team’s fourth batter asked Abe what his relationship with Ren was again, he proudly said that they had formed a battery back in high school and wasn’t fazed at all by the subsequent jokes his teammates threw at him.  Coincidentally, when Abe was approaching the players’ exit, he saw a Swallows pitcher trying to get a conversation out of Ren and failing miserably. He darkly smirked at the knowledge that even Ren’s fellow players didn’t fully understand his personality and in a sort of possessive display he waited for them to notice him to interrupt the sorry sight.

“Ren. Going home or you guys have a meeting?”

“Abe-kun!” said Ren first, visibly surprised that Abe was talking to him, but Abe’s attention rested on Ren’s eyes, glittering with glee under the artificial lights, Abe knew that he did the right thing.

“No meeting for me. Um…. The coach told me….. I can go home.”

“Because of your Perfect Game. No wonder he hasn’t anything to reprimand you for.” Abe’s words had the effect he hoped they would and Ren’s flushed face after the high of the game  blushed even more strongly until the familiar tinge of red reached his ears. It was a long time since the last time Abe saw it so he stared at the flaming skin for a few seconds before adding.

“Are you free tonight? Around 8pm?”

Probably not trusting his voice, Ren nodded furiously.

“Wanna try that Mamiya restaurant in Minato? Yūichirō recommended it.”

“I… I already! With Yuu!”

Damn, of course. Tajima often reprimanded Abe by talking about what _good_ _friends_ Ren and he had remained.

“But…..!” said Ren interrupted his train of thoughts. “If Abe-kun…… wants to go….. I’ll go with!”

“Yep. That’d be great, you can tell me what’s good on the menu and what’s not. Ok then, call you later.”

“Yes!” at Ren’s enthusiastic expression and tone Abe couldn’t help but smirk and he quickly ruffled Ren’s hair trying not to show how much Ren’s reaction pleased him and probably failing miserably.

“Alright. Make sure to follow your post-game schedule, you!” Warned Abe stepping away from Ren and fighting the urge to list the things Ren should drink and do, like he used to.

He saw Ren opening his mouth in reply but his teammate suddenly spoke up.

“Oi, you finished playing best buddies with Mihashi?” his tone of voice and his look were accusing, his face was morphed into sheer contempt and his stance was kind of aggressive to boost. This guy didn’t hold Ren’s hand in-between pitches to check if it was warm or cold. Nobody in the pro league did. So he was nobody Abe should concern himself with.

“The hell you want Zero-strikes-kun, wasn’t talking with you.”

As the pitcher’s eyebrows knit together in anger, the lobby resounded with a booming laughter and before Abe could turn around his shoulder was smacked, _hard_.

Behind and beside him were the Giants veteran catcher and half of the battery, more or less Abe’s usual clubbing clique. The third baseman, a foreigner, must had surely been the one to laugh since he loved seeing Japanese men talking in mocking tones, he said it was entertaining.

“You’re ten years too early to deal with this bastard’s wits, kiddo.” remarked the Giants’ catcher. And since he was an honored veteran in comparison to all of them, Abe trailed behind his teammates without hearing a word from the arrogant Swallows’ pitcher’s mouth.

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Abe had a plan. It involved getting over his stupid fears, talking with his family and making Ren  understand that he never, never wanted to see him crying again, and since words alone were not enough, he would show it with his actions.

“Is Abe-kun….. Um…. Sure that you want to be seen in public with me?” had said Ren earlier on the phone and Abe had regret not being at home and able to see Ren’s spirit because he both wished and wished not to see what face was the pitcher making when his voice spoke so hesitantly.

“I’m sure.” had replied Abe and Ren’s slow sigh of relief nailed to punch him in the guts.

Thank goodness, the restaurant was nice, Ren was less panicky than Abe thought he’d be and they talked about food and their nutritional menu smoothyl enough. But of course the universe wanted that Tajima called Abe at that specific time. Excusing himself and mentally cursing the time he told Tajima that he could call and text anytime no problem, Abe begrudgingly exited their booth and found a quiet corner to talk.

“Ren told me you two are on a date tonight so I called to bother you.” Tajima’s opening sentences were often very emblematic of his personality.

“Of course you did.” exhaled Abe.

“You aren’t denying that it’s a date.” said Tajima, sounding interested, as Abe sighed again.

“Both parties have to know that they are interested in each other that way for it to be one, moron.”

“Well Ren sure as hell already thinks so and _you_ are the moron.”

“Mh-hm. You didn’t tell me anything last time we talked, three days ago.”

“Last time we talked was last week.”

“It was three days ago. The interview was already out and all.”

“Then because you weren’t toying with Ren’s feelings then.”

“I’m not.”

“You _are_. There’s a picture on Twitter of you two walking side-by-side in Minato. And you made fun of him live nationwide this morning.”

“I really didn’t.”

“Do you know how many times Ren cried because of you in the past five years?” That was the first conversation solely about Ren he and Tajima had in exactly the same amount of time. Now Abe knew why Tajima never brought up this specific topic. He was so protective of Ren that it was a no-brainer that he would take his side. Plus, now that Abe did something so provocative and so public, it was a natural consequence that Tajima worried about Ren and worried _loudly_.

“I do.”

The answer must have not been the one Tajima was expecting because the line was silent for a while. Abe traced the siren of an ambulance in the streets outside the restaurant.

“You really don’t, moron.” said Tajima, his voice turned melancholic.

“I have to go back to him now.”

After a short pause, Tajima spoke again, his tone lighter.

“Tell me when you fuck. Ren told me he won’t tell me but I know I’ll made him do it anyway but he takes too long. So, you tell me.”

“You are a moron. Bye.”

“You will tell me or I won’t tell you about the time Ren admitted he fapped to one of your old sweaters while he was piss-drunk.”

Abe hung up and made his way back, desperately trying to imagine it and not to imagine it simultaneously while he spared a raging complain about the choice of moments his veranda had selected to show Abe. At their table, Ren looked overwhelmed by one of the waitresses, a fan asking for a picture too many, and Abe gently but firmly shooed her away.

“Don’t tell me you still can’t deal with fans.” he said, sitting back down.

“I….I can! Ju-Just….. I’m not….. very good….. in conversa-conversations, and I don’t…… I don’t….. go out so often and……. People get…… disappointed…… be-because I’m not…… Um…. Good at…… talking.»

“Bull. They should be aware that they approach you with their own set of expectations and not with the full picture. You’ve gotten loads better at talking. Apart from just now but you’re probably nervous or whatever. Still going to the therapist?”

“I-I do! The same one. But less often now.”

“'Cause you got better,  I'm glad.”

They went back to eating for a while, until Abe noticed that Ren's chopsticks weren't moving anymore.

“Was it Yuu on the phone?” asked Ren quietly, staring at his own plate.

“Yep.” replied Abe,  thinking _What exactly did you tell him about this dinner?_  but kept quiet because Tajima always had his mind in the gutter and he probably exaggerated what Ren told him by country miles.

“I'm sorry.”  murmured Ren,  who still had not gone back to his dinner.

“No need to worry, he just reminded me of something.” said Abe,  hoping that Ren would let it go,  but from the state of wrinkled forehead of his former pitcher,  it wasn't going to be so easy.

“He reminded me that your cooking is still one of the best I have tasted. This pickled daikon is not great.”

As Ren smiled, took and munched one of Abe's daikons, Abe mentally patted himself for the good job.

“Abe-kun has changed….” Said Ren looking into his plate again. “You don’t talk about baseball as often as you used to. On the phone too…”

Hearing Ren’s dejected tone, Abe almost choked on his meat.

“Are you kidding me?! I’m dying to comment on your matches but you know it’s off-limits for us. We’re opponents.”

“But!” exclaimed Ren, looking him in the eyes for the first time that evening. His clear, green eyes were pleading and Abe had always been weak to all of Ren, his sincere gaze in particular.

“I can see that your balanced training is paying off, though. You would have wiped off the Tigers’ foreigners if it weren’t for the outfielders’ lousy footwork.”

“That was because they were…. Still angry about….. the Buffalo’s victory in pre-season!”

“I know right?! I was so glad the Tigers taught them a lesson!” They went back and forth between baseball and food until they were full and welcomed the fresh spring air when they bowed their way out of the crowded restaurant.

“Ren, let’s go.” said Abe, a crazy idea springing in his mind and as he stopped a taxi he looked back to see if Ren was going to excuse himself and go home, but he didn’t. The young man hesitantly got in the car and Abe’s heart hammered all the way to his apartment building. Ren was quiet for the whole ride and in the lift. Abe heard him suck his breath in deeply when he opened the door to his flat and flicked on the lights.

He let his keys clink on the table and went to open his refrigerator, asking Ren if he wanted something, but when the turned back, the pitcher was standing still but his eyes were travelling on every object as if cataloguing them. Swallowing down his anxiety, Abe fiddled with the chairs on the veranda, arranged a few beverages and a couple of glasses on the small, simple, circular table there, and took a seat.

After  a couple of minutes the chair beside him scraped a bit on the floor as Ren settled beside him.

“Looks like it’s about to rain.»

“Mh. They haven’t called anything till late in the night though.”

They sat and stared, wordlessly, in the night. Ren’s spirit wasn’t there, but Ren was, in flesh and blood, his pale arms wrapped in a cotton shirt as one rested rigidly on the circular table. Abe averted his gaze and waited.

“Abe-kun….  This….. This……”

Abe turned around to gaze at Ren’s fidgeting figure and willed himself to calm down, even if his chest was hurting with tension.

“I don’t understand….. What this is.” finally said Ren, and abe waited for the pitcher to look up to him before he leaned forward, grasped Ren’s arm at the elbow and saw Ren’s eyes widening for a fraction of a second before he kissed his lips. They were slightly salty and chapped and tasted of pickled vegetables and roasted meat and when he leant backward Abe fought to keep his hand on Ren’s arm unshaking.

Abe saw Ren’s eyes reopening slightly, not having noticed the pitcher closed them, too, and the shock was so thick in them Abe was sure he could reach out and touch it if his body hadn’t turned into stone.

“You can hit me if you want.” said Abe, trading in uncharted waters. He couldn’t be one hundred per cent sure that Ren’s spirit was, in fact, what Ren was doing, but Tajima’s slip kindled his courage and he took the risk of going much ahead in his plan.

Ren shook his head slowly, looking dazed, and Abe squeezed the pitcher’s elbow before letting go. The night air was getting shy of cold now, especially to Abe’s empty palms, and he deemed safe to gather the bottles and glasses and step back inside the flat.

“Ren… What I just did… Did you hate it?” Abe felt the need to ask as he put the glasses in the sink.

“No.” replied Ren slowly, his tone odd and truly enough, when Abe turned around, Ren was standing straight in the middle of kitchen-cum-living room, completely out of sorts. Abe would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so crucial.

“Ok then. Ok… I’ll call you a taxi, alright?”

“What?”

“I’m calling a taxi. For you. It’s too chilly outside to walk all the way back to yours.”

“B-But.” wailed Ren, taking a half step towards Abe, raising his arms slightly, as if to bodily stop him.

“Just now….. Just now…..” Abe crossed the short distance between then and touched Ren’s arm again, trying to keep his grasp as feather-light as possible. He didn’t want to come across too strongly and scare him, though he couldn’t exactly control his eyes and hoped that the yearning wasn’t too palpable in them.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to think about it all at once right now. I rushed the proper order of things. So you can just take your time thinking about it. Think about your situation, _our_ situation. You don’t have to give me an answer soon.”

“But….. But…..!” wailed Ren again but Abe thought about all the ways this could possibly go wrong and about Tajima’s words and shook his head.

“Not before you have begun considering this in earnest. Your family and career and… all sorts of things. Come on. I’ll walk you to the lobby.”

And since that moment, Ren seemed to calm down and Abe only heard his footsteps behind him all the way downstairs. They didn’t exchange another word until Ren got in the taxi and Abe hoped that the pitcher hadn’t looked so dejected when he closed the car door.

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Abe’s phone woke him up when every corner of his flast was still completely pitch-black and trying his best to shield his eyes from the bright screen he flicked the call open and grumbled a greeting.

“FUCK YOU TAKAYA!” shouted Tajima in his ear, so loudly that Abe’s heart plummeted  in his guts and his eyes flung wide open.

“What?” he tried to say but Tajima was going on shouting.

“You’re a jerk, how could you tell him something like that? JERK! BASTARD! He’s crying so bad I had to fake that my battery was about to die and I’ve got to get back to him now but I wanted to tell you that you’re a FUCKING JERK FIRST!”

“What the hell? What the hell?! Who?” said Abe, sitting on the bed, trying to hope that it wasn’t related to what happened a few hours before even though the pounding in his chest was telling him otherwise.

“Who do you think? Ren! Called me ages ago, he was fucking sobbing man, because you told him-“ But Abe wasn’t listening. He flicked the lights on and swung the door of the veranda open. On the floor, by a semi-transparent bed, a semi-transparent Ren was curled in on himself, his head buried in his arms, his right hand gripping his phone tightly, the rhythmic shaking of his shoulders as his mute sobs tore Abe apart, yet again. He swore to himself that he wasn’t going to see Ren crying because of him and be unable to do anything anymore.

“Get back to him. I’m going there.” he said, putting the phone back to his ear, but the line was dead already.

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Abe had never had the urgency to reach another neighborhood in the middle of the night, shy of 2am, so he had nothing to compare it with, but the whole experience was absolutely surreal.  Discovering that there is a taxi service even at these ungodly hours, seeing people strolling around here and there, walking into another apartment building’s empty but dimly-lit lobby and navigating the hallways which led to the homes of unfamiliar individuals and families, everything so eerily quiet. He wondered what sort of expression he had when Ren peeked from the threshold and next swung it open with bewildered, puffed, red-rimmed eyes.

Ren even did a lookover of his whole figure and Abe wanted to tell him that if some weird-coloured clothes were visible, they were his pajama, since he put on the first outdoor clothes he could grab onto over it because there was no freaking time to undress and re-dress properly.

The curled-up figure on his veranda came to Abe’s mind as he took in the state of complete desolation Ren was in and couldn’t help but wrapping the slimmer yet taller pitcher in his arms.  Ren’s sharp intake of breath resounded close to Abe’s ear but he ignored it and settled Ren’s body to mold against his. He didn’t know how much later, but when he finally remembered that he didn’t hear the door click closed, he blindly gave it a push with his foot, but when he focused back on Ren’s warm, still trembling figure, the other stepped away.

“Ta-Takaya.” said Ren, and from such close distance, Abe could see the angry red, tiny burst veins in his eyes, and the swollen skin under them, the runny nose and the same clothes as the one Ren was wearing at dinner.

“W-What….. What……. Takaya…… He-Here……” managed to say Ren, around a terribly scratchy-sounding throat and in an utterly desperate air.

“Come on.” said Abe, swearing to punch himself for this whole fiasco later. Pushing Ren’s back as gently as possible, he easily navigated the flat tapping into his memories. After having turned on the shower,  he grabbed a bottle from the fridge and located Ren’s pajama and washed underwear. Getting Ren to drink a bit went smoothly enough but the shower proved to be harder to deal with since Ren wanted to know why he was here and how did he know, and why he was here again.

“After you shower. It will take just a minute. You’ll feel better, come on Ren, please.”

Ren didn’t look splendid after a few minutes under the spray, of course, but Abe counted a victory when Ren emerged from the bathroom looking too sleepy to cry anymore, and putting Ren to bed proved but a few seconds business.

Ren’s forehead felt hot and Abe hoped that the moron didn’t go and got himself a temperature from stress at the beginning of the League. But when he thought about voicing it in attempt to put a smile back to Ren’s lips, the other grumbled as he visibly struggled to keep his eyes open and fixed on Abe.

“Takaya….” grumbled Ren sleepily.

“Don’t worry, just go to sleep.” whispered Abe instead, hoping to soothe the pitcher into slumber.

“I’m going to borrow your couch, that alright?” But when he got up to move, he felt Ren’s hand tugging him back, even though he was so tired that he couldn’t exactly halt Abe by strength alone, so Abe complied and turned around to see what Ren needed and saw that the man had wrestled both arms out of the covers and was looking truly desperate, on the verge of tears again.

“No. I want……… to be closer.” murmured Ren and Abe’s felt a knot of pain at the sound and instantly undressed to keep his pajama’s t-shirt and his shorts and navigated Ren’s weary body to pull the covers on top of both of them. When he finished, though, Ren had started crying again and Abe was completely at odds about what to do.

“Ren-“  “Takaya!” they said simultaneously, Ren in a whining tone.

“I don’t-I don’t-I don’t want-want time!” wailed Ren, barely managing to look at Abe in-between the tears.

“I want Takaya.” and with a sharp intake, Ren’s sobs became long, anguished cries again. He sounded as though there was no hope left, as though everything had been taken away from him.

Abe, his heartbeat clogging his throat, floored by the situation, scooted forward and by auto-pilot wrapped himself around Ren’s shaking torso as comfortably as he could manage. He stroked Ren’s hair, his shoulders, his back, every place he could think of which would feel better if petted.

“I’m sorry. Don’t cry, you have me. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. Ren, I’m sorry. Don’t cry.”

Even after several seemingly endless minutes later, when Ren had sobbed himself to sleep, Abe didn’t stop calling Ren’s name and apologizing.

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Abe didn’t remember the last time he woke up feeling so aroused. That wasn’t normal. Was he sick? As he slowly regained consciousness he thought about dreaming of being sucked off. But then he realized that the dream didn’t have the usual vaporous atmosphere dreams possessed and that there was an actual, real-as-fuck wetness around his dick and everything clicked back into place.

“Ren.” He called, extending a hand downward. As he found the mop of hair of his favourite pitcher, he stroked it lightly, hoping to get the pitcher to come back up but the suction only intensified and Abe hissed in pleasure as his poor dick tried not to spill right then and there.

Opening his eyes, Abe calculated from the abundant light that was trailing inside from the spaces in-between the thick closed curtains that it must have been late morning.

“Ren, come on. You don’t have to do this. I got it, no more waiting.” pled Abe, feeling so embarrassed all of a sudden and only when his dick was released he did lift the covers.

If Ren’s previous sudden sucking had not made him come, Abe was endangered again by the sight of Ren crouched right above his hard-on. He didn’t know how but Ren had managed to lower Abe’s shorts and free his groin completely. As he contemplated how Ren managed the feat, the man himself scooted closer and kissed Abe hard on the mouth as a greeting and only when Abe opened his lips and tasted himself on Ren’s hot tongue did Ren pushed himself up and, staring down at him, said-

“Takaya, good morning.”

The seemingly  innocent greeting was so funny in such a context that Abe couldn’t, for the life of him, keep in the laughter, but Ren took advantage of his momentary lapse of attention by latching himself on the spot under Abe’s left ear. Ready to push Ren away, since lovebites were not easily overlooked on national sport channels, Abe halted himself when he felt Ren trailing down his neck and chest like a man on a mission.

“Honestly, what’s with you?” asked Abe, but Ren only let out a stretched wail and wriggled until Abe had to open his legs to accommodate Ren’s.

“Mmh….” finally sighed Ren, hugging and half-crashing Abe into the mattress. Abe’s whole front was suddenly very warm, his erection was close to Ren’s own groin, while Ren’s puffs of breath, so close to his ear, were doing nothing to help with his heartbeat pace at the moment.

“It’s such a pity I don’t have condoms……” bemoaned Ren, and his tone of voice was so normal, as if he was complaining about a sudden rain shower, that Abe’s brains took a while to catch up and the realization hit him so hard he couldn’t breathe for a few panicked moments.

“Y-You! Oi! Why, what did you want to do with condoms?!”

“Why “why”? Have sex, obviously. Takaya could be already inside me, for instance.” And Abe swore that his dick didn’t hear that, that is was his imagination, and promptly bleached the mental image which ensued.

“OI! That’s insane, that’s sexual harassment! And it’s too early for us anyway, Ren.”

“But I want to be closer with Takaya.” mumbled Ren in the curve of his neck before propping himself up, looking as if he didn’t understand why Abe was making everything so complicated when it was so simple.

In attempt to dismiss that unpleasant, furrowed look, Abe tentatively groped the front of Ren’s pajama. Ren was already hard and as Abe predicted his eyes instantly became heavy-lidded with arousal. Ren’s mouth even fell a bit open, as if breathing had suddenly ceased to be a simple and natural action.

Prying Ren’s erection out of his boxers, the pitcher sighed and lowered his head until his forehead rested on Abe’s clavicle. Even though it was a bit on the heavy side, when Abe found wetness around the tip of Ren’s thick dick, all thoughts about complaining were hurled out of the window.

Abe recalled his teammates’ numerous comments of the time Tajima had lowered Ren’s swimming trunks in front of everybody and wondered if he could go back in time, if he wished for it hard enough, to slap their memories out of their minds. Ren’s dick felt warm and heavy in his hand and Abe had never felt possessive about someone’s body parts before he became Ren’s catcher but this dark, unsettling sensation was new, instinctual and so deep-rooted in him that it scared him a bit.

However, Ren  was starting to squirm nervously above him, as if he didn’t know how to settle down, so for a while Abe occupied himself by pressing kisses unto Ren’s temple in attempt to soothe him, but even he hissed when he joined their two leaking dicks together in his grip.

He himself was painfully hard and ready to come at any moment but he lied motionless and breathless as he felt Ren’s turning firmer and firmer by the second and marveled at the fact that if he played his cards right and stopped fucking things up he could feel this exact same sensation many more times for many more days to come, possibly for weeks, _months_.

Using his own precome as provisional lube, Abe desperately wished for a future when Ren forgot all about Abe’s past egoism and his stupid presumption that he could live serenely without Ren in his life as he slid his hand up and then down tentatively.

Abe closed his eyes and concentrated on Ren’s ragged breathing, on the smell of tears, breath and arousal, on the taste Ren left on his tongue, on the tiny ‘uh’s ‘ah’s he was letting out as he squirmed and gripped Abe’s shoulders so tightly that Abe almost came, and then continued to mentally curse everything he could remember when Ren bit into his pectoral all of a sudden, and then he _did_ come.

Abe was glad, though, that Ren had enjoyed it as much as he did, because he came soon after with a sudden, violent bodily shake while clutching Abe’s shoulder so tightly that Abe fought  off an hiss of pain.  When Ren settled down back on the mattress and curled his limbs close to Abe’s side, sighing contentedly, Abe exhaled slowly, trying to etch the moment in his memory so it would never fade.

He laid awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking about fetching a tissue and cleaning up their sticky skin, and about which other things were left to do. He had to call Tajima and apologize and thank him, call his mother and explain her the shitstorm that he about to raise in the press, call the Giants’ coaches and lay out the facts for them to figure out what they wanted to do with him. They were most likely going to sack him on the spot.

Abe’s plans came to a halt when Ren’s hand scratched idly at his side.

“Stop that, it’s ticklish.” at his words, Ren stopped and looked up, and Abe rejoiced in seeing his expression serene, although exhausted.

“Takaya, are we going out?” asked Ren in a whisper, with a resolute note in his voice, and Abe couldn’t help a tiny smirk.

“Hell yeah we are.” he said and bent to search for the sensitive spots on Ren’s collarbone which would make him breathless.

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The end.

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction was born from the pages of the shounen-ai one-shot "On the Veranda" by Ichikawa Kei, recently translated by the awesome team Must Be Endless Scanlations at: 801.ninja/projects/completed-projects/on-the-veranda/ . 
> 
> This is what happens when my Drarry and Larry fics slow down to the point when I haven't published anything in a year, which is awful and frustrating.
> 
> "On the Veranda" honestly started out as another sudden Drarry fanfic but since I wrote it when the Central League 2016 had just begun (March 25th) I soon switched to my favourite fictional baseball players.
> 
> You can see that I sort of wanted to turn it into something relatively decently structured, with in-house imagery and allusions and all the trims but when I finished the smut scene I found out that I didn't have the time and I also kind of didn't want to go back and pick up all the loose threads. I am sorry about this.
> 
> Congratulations to the Swallows for having won the 2015 League and congratulations to the Giants for having put up one hell of a fight. We will crush you both soon enough *evil laughter*.
> 
> As I have absolutely no idea how authors keep getting Betas left and right nowadays, "On the Veranda" is, like all my previous works, un-Betaed.  
> Therefore, I will be absolutely delighted and grateful if there is even one single person who likes this thing and I will gratefully accept criticism or any sort of feedback.
> 
> This said, please keep in mind that this is an English fanfiction of a Japanese manga and I know Japanese and it's completely different, so in cases where the languages 'sounds' strained it's because I have tried to keep the atmosphere as close as a Japanese context as possible. Thank you.


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